Long Have I Lived
by IronRaven
Summary: One will outlive them all. In time, the last of the first will become the Headmaster. One of the best parts of that is welcoming the new kids.
1. Chapter 1

**Long Have I Lived**

Originally a drabble that wasn't going to ever be published, Dholefire appreciated it. Her comments poked me until I decided this should be published.

_---x_

You all know who I am. I've met all of you. We have a lot to learn from each other. Each of you will walk your own path, but you will never again be alone. Those you stand beside you will be with you for as long you live.

Long have I lived.

I've seen the most dangerous of foes become the closest allies; I've stopped dear friends from destroying the world. I've seen the darkness within all of us take form, and peace grow from evil intentions.

Long have I learned. Long have I taught.

I have watched my students grow from children to warriors, diplomats, healers and teachers. I also watched them weaken, age, and slip from this mortal plane. We stood watch, we defended, every continent, every ocean, beyond the sky.

Our enemies have been many. Humans and mutants, gods and demons, wizards and madmen, aliens and machines. They have come from many worlds, many times, but always we have stood before them. We are the guardians of this world.

Over the decades I've been the outcast, the teacher, the fighter and the wanderer. As we've changed and evolved, I became the leader. I became the old man. For one hundred, twenty six years, I've watched young people come to this place, because they were destined to be special. I remember them, all of them, as I shall remember each of you.

Be worthy of your future, and of your teammates. I, Logan the Wolverine, welcome you, the one hundred twenty seventh class of the Xavier Institute, and the newest members of our family.

Welcome home, X-men!

[opening speech from Headmaster Logan to the incoming students of the Xavier Institute, 2162]


	2. Chapter 2

**Long Have I Lived  
Chapter 2**

Well, it was going to be a oneshot... oops. It is too compelling a world to ignore.

_-x_

"You should see this class, Chuck. Smart, fast, talented- everything we've trained them to be. But what a bunch of goof offs. It's like having Kurt and Evan and Remy back. All three of them, at the same time. Even Kendy is having a hard time with their sense of humor. They got me today- they went low tech. Seriously, a bucket of water, and a door. Not even Kurt and Remy got me like that. I told them all I didn't care which one did it, they were all going to catch it this time and that I was so mad at them I couldn't even hand out punishments tonight, I'd have them in the morning. Let them think about it over night. Yeah, I was trembling, but because I was trying not to laugh. I already know what they'll get- everyone has to write ten times 'We will not waterbucket The Wolverine' and email it to me. Odd are, someone will type it up, copy it, and send it to everyone so they can forward it to me.

"But when they have to be, they can be serious in a second, all of them. So serious, so intense. I look at those kids, and it's like a time machine. Their powers, their personalities- they remind me of the first couple classes. It almost makes me believe in reincarnation. I keep waiting for you to suddenly show up one morning in a new body and start eating breakfast with me and the kids.

"Yeah, I still eat in the dining hall. I know I don't have to, but I love these kids. Since 'Ro died, I don't know how I'd make it more than a few days without them. They know I'm the headmaster, but once they get over the big honor of eating with 'Headmaster Wolverine', I'm just one of the guys. They keep me young, and they keep me sane, Chuck. I think you were the same way; hope you were. I don't even want to know how feral I'd be now without them, even with Laura and Kendy there.

"I know you hate to hear this kind of thing, but there are days when I think I've lived to long, or maybe just remembered too much. I know I've thanked you before for saving the mad beast that howled at the world from himself.

"What else should you know about...

"The new _Star Jammer_ is about to return from trials. She's a good ship, nimble and small and tough; I wish you could see her, I remember how much you liked to fly. We think she'll go from ground to jump altitude in under ten minutes, it's a hotrod. I'm going to send some of the seniors with her this spring, for their final term. Not all of them have deep space experience, it will be good for them. Some diplomacy, some trade, some boarder patrol. _You_ had it easy. You only had to worry about one world most of the time.

"We're also thinking real hard about finally tearing down the Rodgers building. It's the oldest building left on the campus- I hate to do it, but maybe it's time. The kids are against it, they keep trying to come up with schemes to save Cap Hall. You two and the first class, they look up to you all. Hell, I still look up to the bunch of ya', and I knew you bad moods and hangovers and all." He grinned. "But I'm always going to be short."

A dull thrumming sound cut through the air. With a habit born of long experience, Logan turned and watched as one of the Xavier Institutes's nineteenth generation Blackbirds lifted into the night, winging out over the ocean, then another. First night flight for some of the pilots- they'd be fine, Talon and Bluejay were good teachers and good pilots. Great X-men.

They'd better be- he'd taught them both.

Logan turned back to grave of the first headmaster. "Training flight means it is 2110 or so. I've got a deans-and-admin exercise tonight. Should run about four hours over the time estimate. Let's see if they can save the world and still have this place run normally tomorrow."

He'd stopped those trainings for a while, but he'd had to change his mind. First he noticed his uniform was tight- he'd worn the same size pants for over a century, and he'd had to let his belt out a little. Then he had the horrible realization- he was slowing down. He'd looked around, and there were X-men who were looking soft and soggy. Nuh-uh, not on his watch. He'd started with some soft cajoling and setting a good example, and moved up to shouting and chair tossing and ass kicking for one or two who could take in in the helpful spirit it was intended.

There could only be three kinds of X-men: students, instructors, and heroes. No bench warmers, no console cowboys, not even deans and department heads and accountants and such could fail to excel. If you were mundane, that was fine- Logan had found a good price on exoframes. Wearing the X had always meant something, and more so every year it seemed. So some times things weren't run as smoothly as they could have been, or it seemed like there were three people were two could serve- just as in early years, instructors typically spent three to four hours a day training.

As Logan walked towards the cemetery gate, he stopped frequently. A touch, a soft word, a reassurance about grades of a child or grandchild, a friend's teasing banter. As always, he knelt and kissed Ororo's marker- he came out here two or three times a day for that, if nothing else. A soft breeze, warm for this time of year, stroked his back and hair as he passed through the gates.

He'd known a lot of heroes.

**-Author's notes:**  
Logan's old, not many left who can remember the first class. Really, just him, Laura, and few other near immortals. Xavier, Scott, maybe one other, those are really the only ones who've sat in the big chair in the office in the Mansion. Good thing he's got those shoulders.

And Bluejay is so called because he is bluer than both his famous great grandfathers. BJ has an solid family tree- 4th generation X-man, and he's added to the future. He doesn't want to fight, he's a peace maker. He thinks of fighting as the next to last resort. He can if he has to- if you leave him no choice, he'll tear your spine out and beat you with it. Then puke and have bad dreams for a month.

And it doesn't matter. You can be one the X-men, trained as a warrior, diplomat and scientist, one of the most elite defenders the Earth has ever seen. Or you can be the guy who makes sure they have enough toilet paper. The universe doesn't make a distinction, both can stop a blade, bullet, or beam just as easily. You wear the X, you get trained. The Second Interplanetary War (or the Third, or possibly the First Intersystem War, depends on the historian) had them pushing invaders out of the halls and fields, from their homes and gardens when the Institute became as much a target as Kenya Port, Tolansky Field and Xi Tsu'an Station.


	3. Chapter 3

**Long Have I Lived**  
by Ironraven, with editing/beta-reading by BabyBeaver

In a century and a quarter of training young people, Logan had come to understand several things about himself. One was, even if half the people who knew him thought he was grumpy, cranky, mean, rude, and violent, the other half thought he had one of the biggest hearts around. Both could exist in the same person it seemed. And a lot of his kids, even now, came from screwed up families. He's become the example of what a good father did. He'd tried to give all the students, even the ones who were from well adjusted families, time with him- he'd finally broken down a gotten a psychiatry degree, just like the Professor's. It helped, but mostly it was just listening, giving advice, encouragement, keeping secrets and motivating them when needed.

He'd even written a book about what to expect as a parent of mutants. It had three chapters about kids who sat in trees and on roofs.

"Hey." At two thirty in the morning, even if he was just back from a trip and hadn't even had time to drop off his bag, he wasn't Headmaster Logan of the Xavier Institute. He wasn't Wolverine, founding member of the X-men and the Avengers. He wasn't Mr. Logan, diplomat and de facto leader of metahumans. He wasn't a lot of names. He was just Logan. He knew when his kids needed him.

"Hey."After more than century, those two words spoke volumes about their relationship. They could say more that way than most people in a few hundred words. She breathed deeply. "How did the negotiations with the Kree go?"

"Not done, but maybe this time it will work. Both sides are talking for a change, and their privateers promised to leave Human shipping alone." Logan growled softly as he set is duffel down. "They and the Skrull both know they'll speak with _us_ if they don't."

He waited. She wasn't going to break the silence. "So why are you still up? The dreams?"

"If you knew, why did you ask?" Her voice was thick with memories.

He shrugged. Talon had always been a little snarky. " 'Cause I care; it's part of the job. You know that."

"You had House watching me."

"Nope. How long have I known you?" She didn't dignify that with an answer, but she knew he'd never stoop to having someone play spy on her. "Which dreams were they tonight?"

"The night they died."

Logan nodded. He had memories of that night to. They were why he'd written the book and put it on a shelf for a decade. "They were good friends. I miss them."

"You left us after that." There was no recrimination in her words. She'd been angry with him about that for quite a while, but she understood it now to. "You just disappeared."

"I know." He'd seen too many people die, in too small a span of time. He'd packed some things, drawn cash, gotten on his bike and left for five years. He'd had to face his ghosts. He'd left Talon and the others to pick up the pieces- he'd abandoned them. "Everyone has a breaking point- that was mine."

"It wasn't your fault."

But it had been, at least in part. Most of the dead been his students. They trusted him to teach them to stay alive, to lead them. He felt more guilt there than he did loosing friends like Charles and Steve- the students had put their faith in Mr Logan. No one else had to blame him. He still did. He always would. It still hurt. The only consolation was that they'd gone out fighting.

They hadn't been the only ones in the dark years after Jeannie's death. So many people had died, the vacuum inside had pulled all the doors to his past open, forcing him to confront it. Scott hadn't let him back into the house after he returned, not for a long time. And Scott's drinking, Cyke's fight with his own son... There almost hadn't been X-men at that point. Half of the team was disgusted and had set up shop on the West Coast. Logan had been forced to return, to take over. He'd brought everyone home- Alpha Flight, Excalibur, even what was left of the Brotherhood and the Morlocks had places here.

Talon leapt down from the tree. He wasn't sure how long he'd been silent, thinking. She hugged him, tightly- she was almost as strong as he was, but their adamantium skeletons didn't notice the crush. "You saved us, Logan, from ourselves."

Part of that book had been what to do when the worry and fear and stress and loss became too much for the parents. What to do, or at least not do, when parents couldn't take it any more.

He remembered finding Laura that horrible, flame filled night, surrounded by bodies, bathed in blood and gore. She had killed those who had murdered her mate and her best friend. She'd been with them, when the blast came. She'd tried to shelter them with her body. She died with them, but they weren't cursed to come back. To remember.

He held his eldest daughter tightly, rubbing her back.

**Authors Notes:**  
Gah, I need to find something happy to write about for Logan's future. Kendall.. She'd usually pretty happy... Yeah, I need to write about Torrent. Or the clown class. Or flight training with hotshots. Wolverine is really getting bummed out around here. He's even willing to drink warm Bud...


	4. Chapter 4

**Long Have I Lived**  
by Ironraven, with editing/beta-reading by BabyBeaver

"Morning Dad." Logan's daughter gave him a one armed hug from behind before joining her father, sister and several of the students. Torrent's tray was a stark contrast to the one Talon was methodically clearing- the younger Logan girl's idea of a balanced breakfast was a trio of donuts, an egg muffin and two big mugs of mochachino, but she had the metabolism to make it work. She'd added enough cream to the cups that they matched her skin tone. "So everyone survived a training exercise with these two?"

"Yes, Ma'am" chorused the six students. 'Twitch' Murphy grinned- he liked Ms Monroe, she was a lot easier to screw up around than her sister, she didn't usually yell at you. He and his friends had spent the first half hour taking on the Headmaster and Talon in a six-on-two version of capture the flag. They hadn't posted pro-teams yet, and they wouldn't until the end of the second semester, but a lot of people assumed he and his friends would be tried out as a team. Of course, most provisional teams were also temporary, but it was your first team. A team that could at least keep one member "alive" for ten minutes three times in a row against Logan and Laura had promise. Of course, his power helped- he was able to see and hear five seconds into the future. Enough time to respond to the unseen, even if you didn't have time to really do much about it, but with their headsets, it would keep his people alive.

Of course, the class of 2162 was trying to buck tradition. What they really wanted, even the grumpy ones, was to be one overall team. The biggest team to ever wear the X other than a ship crew was X-Factor, Laura's team. When asked what the odds of something like that happening were, she would tell them point blank they were a long way from being good enough to compare themselves to X-Factor. And tell them loudly, while also highlighting their short comings individually and collectively. But she never told them what they needed to do to be that good, but it was common knowledge that she was the only member of her team to have not been permanently killed or maimed in action. The X-men had had a few members pass on from natural causes, and one of the New Mutants had even retired before they died, but not X-Factor. What they hadn't known until told by an instructor was that Talon had been there when each member died.

There were those who thought Talon's evaluation had a prerequisite of being dead. Kendall Logan-Monroe didn't dispute that theory. She had always been told she was more like her mother, or at least had her sense of humor although it had been 'twisted' by growing up with TJ Wagner as her best friend. They'd been the pranksters of thier class, and oh so very bold and sure of themselves- their parents had been X-men, not just any X-men but origionals, and they'd been trained for this from birth. Kendy had known heroic seedlings when she saw them, and she was willing to cut them more slack as they grew. Kendy was pretty sure there was another team of heroes this year. Several of them.

She was aging faster than her sister, but she only looked to be in her late thirties. She had inherited the white hair and blue eyes from her mother, along with the ability to control the elements. She might not have had Storm's control due to her temper, but with Wolverine's healing powers, she could take more of a beating in the process of summoning a pocket sized hurricane. And she was the second tallest of the three members of the Logan family, due to having gotten her mother's build. "Do I want to ask what the final score was?"

"No. Excuse me." Laura wiped her lips and carried her tray to the reclamation window.

Kendall smirked. "Oh, they are that bad, Mr Headmaster?"

A deep hurrump came from Logan's chest. "Twitch here has promise as a coordinator but you clowns got lucky."

Rebecca, Shadow, smiled innocently. "How would you stop him from being lucky, Mr. Logan?"

Headmaster Wolverine leaned back in his chair, looking at the young leader. His face was deep in concentration as he took a sip of his coffee. "Oh Kah Ee."

The time to 'drop a crowbar' from the firing to impact would take longer than five seconds, and would make a serious dent even for the little accelerators that the Xavier ships carried. Orbital kinetic energy strikes were serious news, but they were slow compared to other things- like Logan.

"YES!" The elbow bump had replaced the high five in common culture. Stretch smirked. "Does that mean we are in your league, sir? I mean, stopping you would involve a strategic weapon."

Kendall giggled at her father's second harrump. "Don't get ahead of yourself, kids. You've got a long way to go until you are in _my_ class. Mr Grumpy here eats those things for dessert. With whip cream and sprinkles."

Logan smiled an evil and crooked smile- he didn't bother to maintain his image, others did it for him, but it came in handy. In all honesty, because of Twitch's ability, they'd been able to keep four of their team alive during one drill, five in the other two. He'd seen teams with a powerful telepath gestalt before, becoming of one mind, and if partnered with someone like that, Twitch would be a good leader. Someone like his current girlfriend. But he wasn't ready to be in charge of anything yet, other than work parties, because he relied too much on his power and not enough of actual tactics and strategy. "If you six think you are that good, I've got half an hour free right now. Kendy, want to be my dance partner?"

"Sure Dad."

Six students' faces paled. Getting your butt kicked by The Wolverine and Talon was one thing. It was a professionally delivered, serious, grim reminder that stealth, cunning, and a couple of centuries of experience would trump all the youth and talent in the galaxy. The Wolverine and Torrent was another thing all together- she tried to be nice to you, to take it easy on you, all the while smiling. And she still drowned and zapped you, while taking everything you could throw at her.

It was worse when both of the Headmaster's daughters were your opponents. The grinning hammer and scowling anvil routine would ruin anyone's day.

One of the students groaned. "Mo'oom. Not in front of my friends."

"Sorry Skippy."


	5. Chapter 5

**Long Have I Lived  
**by Ironraven, with editing/beta-reading by BabyBeaver

OK, so my move is done. That means that I can get down to focusing on neXt and a Brotherhood tale, then more of Never Trained. Until then...

_-lhil_

"Why tell me?"

"Because I can't tell your dad. Not any more." This guest wasn't logged in the visitor log. Not too many people could get around House's sensor network, but the right password could remove an entry. She blushed deeply. "The last time, it hurt to tell him. He was asking me questions I can't tell him, that no one can know this, but I can't _not_ warn you that I'll be there. I just... can't." The woman's elbows were already on the table as she buried her face against the restored, antique wood. Her fingers curled together at the nape of her neck, instinctively protecting vulnerable locations. "I was an X-man, I can't..."

Laura gently rubbed her friend's back. "I know you can't. But it is better if you don't tell him- we all know the dangers are always there, but it doesn't mean that we will always lose someone. He worries."

The laughter was bleak. "He always did. Damnit, I used to hate it when he asked us where we were going and when we'd be back. I used to tell him I wasn't a little kid. That none of us were. We all did it- even you." She lifted her face from the table as she murmured, "Did we ever look like the kids now?"

Laura nodded. "They do look awfully young, don't they." Her lips twitched a little at the look sent her way. "I'm different. I cheat, and you are changing the subject."

"Laura, he begged me last time. I was afraid he was going to cry." The battle hardened warrior could deal with a lot, even children shrieking in a fire, but her teacher pleading like that had been more than she could take. "I can't NOT do my job. I can't keep it from happening, but if I'm not there, then people won't find their way."

"He's not asking you to. If anything, I think he's glad that you still think of yourself as one of us, that you are there when an X-man needs you. You take care of them, when we can't. You always were willing to do the rough jobs, Dani."

"It just feels like I'm lying to him." The voice was miserable.

"Sshhhh... you aren't." Laura was quiet for a while before trying to change the subject. "Have you seen the graves? I changed the flower beds around by yours."

Dani Moonstar smiled. Not too many people could visit their own graves, even if it was just a marker. She wasn't human, not any more- she was something much more evolved. Laura was obsessive about the conditions at the graveyard, and personally took care of the planting of new flowers every year. "Yeah, I like them- are they a new hybrid of yours?"

"Yes." She'd named the variety Lightening Triumphant- it had a yellow core shading to scarlet at the edges of the petals, with black on the long edges. She read the expression on her old friend's face. "Are you going to be ok?"

"I'm a Valkyrie. It's my job- I agreed to do this." She'd taken those who wished to spend their time in Valhalla there, and escorted friends who had other plans as far as she could. But she could never interfere, she couldn't stop someone from falling. Not even for love.

She traced the hammered, stylized X and bear on her armour. She could take friends and lovers and even family members to the other side. She could stand by and watch monsters in human form murder by wholesale lots, knowing she or her sisters would take the killers to a special place. But she couldn't watch Wolverine with his eyes pleading again. "I have to go, I've been here too long."

"Take the northern approach, and stay low, the training flights are going south tonight. You should be able to keep from being seen." Laura blinked. "Wait a minute."

She stepped out of the dining alcove in the small home she shared with memories and hundreds of plants. The climate ranged from the moist, tropical warmth of the kitchen with its orchids and proteas from Hawaii and Africa and Nova Roma, to the dryness of the bedroom with it's succulents, cactai and bonsai. The dining and living rooms were eternally colored with roses and tulips and daffodils and the occasional Shi'ar crownblossom. From the kitchen there was the clatter of containers and a growl- it made Dani smile. Even after all this time, Laura was a bit lost in the kitchen, even her own. She came back with a small bag of dried rose hips, and a couple of apples. "For Brightwind."

Dani smiled, slipping them into a pouch on her belt to balance the weight of her sword. "Even if you bribe my horse, I still can't tell you where. But I'll be taking the long way."

"I know. But as a senior instructor, I can initiate surprise training mission for the senior students. You can be anywhere in an hour if you use the Bridge rather than a portal spell, so ten seconds after you leave here, I'll tell the students to rally for an emergency deployment exercise. If one of the teams out there calls for backup..."

"You'll be suited up and ready to respond. And if I remember correctly, the new _Blackbirds_ can be anywhere on Earth in thirty minutes or less, so if reinforcements get there a couple minutes before I do... How lucky. And of course, you'd advise Avengers Academy once you were off the ground, just in case they were closer." Dani smiled coldly as she slung her quiver; her bow was already strung.

She would do her job, but everyone had a champion they cheered for. Usually, a Valkyrie had a particularly handsome man in mind; this was the one who had many champions. She'd had a conditions when she said yes- she took care of the X-men and Avengers if and when her duties allowed it. And everyone looked the other way when she came home before she knew that one of Earth's heroes would fall. She looked after her family. And if the Gods of Asgard didn't like it, tough. She'd reaped human and Aesir both in her duties. Danielle Moonstar was the best as what she did, just like she'd been taught to be.


	6. Chapter 6

**Long Have I Lived**  
by Ironraven, with the beta reading of Lychee Loving

**************x.x x.x x.x x.x x.x** **x.x x.x x.x x.x x.x** **x.x x.x x.x x.x x.x** **x.x x.x x.x x.x x.x** x.x x.x x.x x.x x.x

Logan stood in the doorway of the hanger. The three _Blackbirds_ that were part of tonight's training flight flexed their wings and tails, stretching, spreading, curling them. The brilliant materials they were made of no longer had what he considered sane and rational control surfaces; instead, they changed their shape like a living thing- they could almost scratch their bellies.

He still remembered bringing in the first one from a mission, the laminate of the skin threatening to unravel, streaming smoke while structural warnings screamed, and with less than seventy seconds of fuel in the tanks. It was a tribute to the designers and the Institute's gadgeteers that _Blackbird-1_ had flown again after Russia as much as it was his and Kurt's skill as pilots.

Logan tapped headset he wore. "Blackbird flight: control systems show full range of motion."

There were two acknowledgments to him and to the lead aircraft. "We're waiting on you, Wolverine."

Headmaster Logan nodded, stepping briskly to the lead aircraft. This late in the term, there was only one instructor aboard each jet, and only as observers- the students were in charge.

As a team, the three aircraft would fly in formation through a simulated obstacle course drawn in over the ocean by the cockpit displays, then each pilot would make a touch and go at the real strip using instruments, then another one without. At night, they would be relying on their skills, their powers, and the runway lights: it was all very primitive and 20th century. The students had been told that the aircraft's autopilots had been deactivated, and they had, but the AI that managed flight operations was fully aware of what was happening and could override if a crash was likely to happen. It was perfectly safe, but the kids had the illusion that if they screwed up, they'd kill themselves and their classmates in a horrible fireball.

And if that wasn't enough, the pilots would go to the cargo bay, with the next student taking over, so they could make a solo parachute jump with only an altimeter, not even night vision if they weren't born with that. There were instructors already on the ground to calm their nerves, help them out of their jump harnesses and hand them a hot cup of tea and a blanket. The pattern would be repeated five times, with the instructor-observer taking over so the last student could jump. Once the last student had landed, they'd head back to the dorms.

The students would one day learn that Tower had their safety well within his electronic hands and the jump zone had telekinetics ready to catch them. But not until they were instructors. This exercise was one of those who showed who was a good pilot, and who was a great one. The night jump was there to give them something to be afraid of; could they fly the aircraft knowing that something scary was waiting at the end was there to simulate the terror of flying into the kind of danger that made legends.

All of them were good. Some a little less so- Logan could remember driving lessons that were worse, but not by much. But none of the young men and woman heard the words "Co-pilot has the aircraft", much less the message that Tower had intervened, the ultimate blackmark for a trainee Blackbird-driver's record. Each student flew the course, handed off to the next pilot, and made his or her jump.

The last pilot took the left hand seat silently as his friend headed for the back of the jet. Twitch had done fine, now it was Max's turn. He was the last one for a reason. The same reason he'd always be the last student to do any drill. He'd been raised at the Institute, he knew no other life. Nor did he want another life.

Logan still wasn't sure what to make of students like this; he was pretty sure Charles wouldn't have wanted to see the X-men become a warrior tribe, and he'd fought that impulse hard. Scott hadn't, from one point of view he'd taken the easier way, but he'd also had to find a way to get the X-men outside of the Long Island Mutant Reservation. The only ways to do that was to smuggle them out to Canada or Europe or anywhere else, or send them to the Avengers or SHIELD. Now, X-men were all over the world and they went where humans traveled, and the Reservation had become the expanded Institute. It had only been a few years, but they had emotionally scarred the first generation of the X-men and to some degree, the second.

TJ and Kendall been the first of what Logan considered the "second generation". Jason "Bluejay" Wagner-Pride had thought he'd had it rough growing up. He wasn't just the great grandson of Shadowcat and Nightcrawler, but also of Hank McCoy, with some Guthrie thrown in. Sure, his genes were the stuff of legend, but people didn't judge him by them. Max's fate was worse. It wasn't that his family expected him to get it right every time, the first time, far from it. Even his instructors didn't. But a lot of his peers did. "Nice and easy, kid."

Max toggled his mic, "Blackbird Flight: One is moving to the portside flanker position. Two, take the lead and call the formation." He throttled the engines back a fraction and slid left as he lost about forty meters of altitude as the second aircraft in the trio moved into the lead slot. Max's motions were smooth, but with a little bit of hesitation. He had begun to hesitate and be nervous when the Headmaster was watching, it has started about three weeks ago.

"Max, you can relax. Talk to me."

"I can't, you are an observer. For the purpose of this simulation, the pilot is to assume they are flying alone." The young man's jaw was clenched, his eyes scanning the the instrument console every few seconds, when they weren't taking in everything in outside the cockpit. In fact, he was looking at everything _but_ the co-pilot's seat.

Logan grunted. "You've flown this exercise before. I've known you your entire life: I know you probably snuck into the simulator three nights ago and sweet talked House or Tower into giving you the map."

"That would be dishonorable, Headmaster." But the boy blushed a little as he rolled the aircraft onto a wingtip to slip through a simulated canyon. "But a wise strategy."

"Cut the crap, kid. Why aren't you talking to anyone? Your mother is worried."

Max's eyes flicked to the right hand seat angrily. "I have been speaking."

"No, you've asked people to pass you the peas; but you ain't sayin' anything."

"You benched me." Max's right hand came off the controls to stab an accusing finger in the air. "I'm just ask good as they are, or do I really have to do better than every other X-man?"

"What!"

"Everyone else has a provisional team assignment but me. Why? What did I do wrong?"

"Ah, that." Logan nodded. "Why do you think?"

"Because of me and my frigging destiny!" Even angry, Max's eyes and hands didn't over compensate. If anything, the hesitation was gone. "I know I have to hit a higher mark than anyone else, don't lie to me and say I don't, so just tell me what I need to do."

"Ha. You score well on your own, kid." Logan was glad to see the anger. But the accusation wasn't true- Max had to hit the same marks everyone else did. Who his parents and grandparents were didn't mean a damn thing. The Headmaster was morally certain that the boy's grandfather would want to tear strips from anyone who said otherwise, and knew he was in a position to make every life at the Institute miserable if it was done. Logan weezed the question as he clenched his abs against the Gs, "What didn't you do?"

"I've busted," Max grunted as they stacked the gees like plates on his chest, "every damn record _you_ ever set, and I don't even have the claws."

"You never asked me. WHOAH! Keep your eyes on the terrain, kid." Logan blinked as they missed the mark that simulated a mountain by maybe a meter, his hands almost on the stick. Even though he knew it was illusion for the exercise, it still looked very solid.

"I was in full control of the aircraft. Why should I ask you?"

"Because you've never asked for help."

"Don't want your help, I want to do it on my own."

Logan grunted.

"What?"

"You've never once asked for help from anyone in your whole life. You've helped others, led when asked, and stepped aside for others to shine. If you didn't curse and chase girls I'd think you were strange."

"I got that from my grandfather! Wait-" Max buttoned his mic then reached up to kill the landing gear lights. "Trainer-One to Tower, request permission to make night VFR touch and go on runway one-one-two using natural light only." That wasn't part of the plan, but always that extra step. Max was always pushing himself- stronger, faster, smarter, he always thought he had to be. His weakness was his pride and the the fear of failure it camoflauged.

Logan laughed. They were having this conversation while simulating landing the aircraft on an empty stretch of highway or something- it wasn't like _Blackbirds_ had never done that. He listened to Tower's voice granting permission, the synthetic mind's voice rich with an indulgent chuckle- Tower would never let any aircraft crash on _his_ runways. Logan waited as the tires squeeched on the tarmac, then the roar as extra power was pumped to the turbines and they were going back up for more. "So?"

"Fine!" The anger was tight in his words. Max's growl was feral and deep. "What do I have to do to be on a pro-team? Help me." It took him a moment to remember his manners. "Please."

"Ask your teamleader: Twitch has been waiting for two weeks for you to ask him."

"WHAT! I'm on Twitch's team? That's all I had to do? Then what?"

"He'd have told you to ask me." Logan smiled smuggly. "See how easy that is."

There was a snarl. Max had never, ever asked for help. Not once in his life, never in his sixteen years. Even when he was learning to stand, he'd been too proud to ask for help. He'd fall down and get back up. He'd had his share of bumps and bruises and cuts and he never once went crying to adults, he always toughed it out, sucked it up. He'd ask how something was done, but then he'd do it and do it right. But not for help. He didn't need help. He didn't want help. He wanted to help his friends. He needed to help his team. He did the helping, not the other way around. "That is not funny, Wolverine."

"Hey, I ask people for help. Your mother and your aunt and your father all asked me for help when they were your age."

"Yeah, well... whatever. Have your joke."

Logan smirked. "I knew there was surly teenager in there."

"You had to wait this long to teach me this?"

"Figured you'd get here on your own- guess you aren't as brilliant we all figured." Both of them chuckled, even Max's was more rueful. "Now, go get your chute on, or I'll toss it out and make you fetch."

Max released his restraints with a grin, moving with a fluidity most could never rival, like his jointed were jeweled machines.

"Hey, Skippy- tell your mother not to wait up. Jay asked me if wanted to try his latest batch of starberry wine after the exercise."

Maximilian Monroe stopped at the hatchway. "OK Grampa. But if you aren't at breakfast, I'll come over and ring Jay's doorbell. Even if you don't get hangovers off that stuff, he does, and he'll complain all day."

It was one thing to be the grandson of Headmaster Logan, the latest generation of a mutant family that went to the beginning. The Wagner-Pride and Parker and Reed children always had the hurdle of expectation. The Gutheries were a sprawling clan, loud and able and no one could predict what their x-genes would do next, but they had it just as rough. But the Logan-Monroes, they had been Avengers and X-men before there were X-men or Avengers, and when there hadn't been either one. It was a lot to live up to.

Max's father had died on a mission when he was very young. He'd been raised by mother and grandfather. He'd wanted to be an X-man since he was very young, even before they knew what his genes would do to him. His few friends were those had accept him for being Maximilian Logan-Monroe, not the Headmaster's grandson with the fame and possible connections that promised- he didn't trust liars and sycophants.

In a few years, Logan was sure the boy would be ready for his own team. But for now, he'd have to learn to ask for help from those whom he would lead.

**************x.x x.x x.x x.x x.x** **x.x x.x x.x x.x x.x** **x.x x.x x.x x.x x.x** **x.x x.x x.x x.x x.x** x.x x.x x.x x.x x.x

**Author's Notes:** Rumors of my demise have been premature. Weapon neXt nears conclusion.


End file.
